Over
by Alex Skywalker
Summary: After a fight with the Joker, Dick is left seriously injured. Bruce, still suffering from the recent loss of Jason Todd, decides enough is enough.


**A/N: **

Hey! So, this story was requested by Brightpath2. I wrote it to fit in with the Young Justice timeline so if you know the comics story, just a heads up that this is a little different. It's the Young Justice version ;). I hope you all like it!

Dick Grayson is 18. He is Nightwing already, but still works as Batman's partner. Jason Todd is recently dead.

* * *

"Sit."

Dick sat, his jaw clenched in pain, on the examination table. Bruce stood a few feet away in front of the computer, his cowl down and a glare on his face, daring Dick to try to stand up again. Dick scowled slightly, bending his right knee experimentally, only to cause pain to shoot up through his body. He froze, a small gasp escaping through his teeth as he gently lowered his leg back to its previous position. The Joker had hit him good and falling on it hadn't helped.

"Just sit still until Alfred gets here." Bruce sighed, his bat-senses no doubt picking up Dick's movements.

Dick didn't argue, the bruises around his neck making talking painful, and instead reached up and removed his mask and laying it on the table next to him. He pulled his gloves off, stretching his aching fingers before running a hand through his hair, stopping when it hurt too much to raise his arm. He could feel the bruises decorating his back and chest and winced, thinking how painful moving would be tomorrow.

"Master Bruce, I must insist you sit down as well."

Dick looked up to see Alfred entering the Batcave, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a stern expression on his face.

"Alfred, I'm fine."

"I'll be the judge of that." Alfred glared at Bruce until he gave in, collapsing into the chair in front of the computer. Alfred raised an eyebrow and Bruce scowled, standing up and walking over to the table Dick sat on and perched himself on another one next to it. Alfred nodded briefly in approval before making his way over to Dick.

"Now, Master Richard, let's see about getting this suit off of you. Master Bruce, might I suggest you do the same."

Bruce grunted in agreement as Alfred went around behind Dick and carefully unzipped the back of the Nightwing suit, stiffening when he saw the bruises. But he didn't say anything, instead gently drawing the sleeve of the suit over Dick's shoulder, bringing it down until Dick could slip his hands through. Alfred let the suit hang off around his waist, not yet attempting to take it off his legs.

"I must say, Master Richard, you've turned a lovely shade of purple."

Dick smiled a bit, his neck still too sore to speak.

"I take it your encounter didn't go too well." Alfred directed this at Bruce while examining Dick's face.

"No, he was ready for us. Someone must've tipped him off."

"Who would have known your plans?"

Bruce sighed. "I don't know."

"Did you catch the Joker?"

Dick looked over to see his little brother standing in the doorway, dressed in pajamas and looking like he'd just gotten out of bed.

"No, Tim," Bruce told him. "He got away."

Tim looked down, his face full of fear, sadness, and disappointment. Dick wanted to say something to him, but even if his throat wasn't so sore, he wasn't sure he could bring himself to speak. Ever since Jason's death, things had been tense in the Wayne household. Bruce had become obsessive over finding the Joker and overprotective of both Tim and Dick. More so than usual. Tim was scared; Dick knew this, as he would often find the younger boy in his bed after a particularly bad night. He would always reassure the boy and tell him that they would catch the Joker soon, any day now, but after failing to do so for nearly two months, his knew his promises were becoming empty.

"Master Timothy, it is far past your bedtime." Alfred gave the young boy a light stern look. "Master Bruce and Master Richard are fine for the time being and you can see them in the morning."

Tim nodded, glancing once at Dick before turning and shuffling back towards the elevator. Dick knew Bruce was trying to catch his eye but he ignored him, instead lightly running his fingers over the cuts on his wrists. Joker had managed to get a hold of him tonight, tying him up at the top of a building, hanging over the streets by only his wrists. Batman had found him in time and gotten him down safely, but it had been nearly traumatizing for both of them.

"Ah!" Dick gasped as he felt Alfred's wrinkled hands gently prod his chest, running over the collage of bruises. He did the same to his back before moving up to his shoulders, running gentle fingers over his collarbones and down his biceps.

"Well," The old man finally announced. "It doesn't appear as though you have any broken ribs, though no doubt a great many bruised ones. Bending over shall not be an enjoyable task for the next week or so."

Dick nodded, looking down at his own chest and drawing in breath as he saw all the bruises. Luckily no skin was torn, though. Alfred disappeared around the corner for a moment before coming back with a roll of soft bandages which he began winding around Dick's chest.

"If you will lift your arms up, sir."

Dick raised his arms with a bit of difficulty, softly sighing in relief when Alfred finished wrapping his chest.

The butler then reached out and took Dick's right arm in his own, peering at the torn skin on his wrist before pulling out some antiseptic and pouring it over the wound. Dick gasped as it stung, resisting the urge to pull away until Alfred finished wrapping his wrist in bandages. He did the same to the other wrist before moving down to Dick's legs.

He reached out and gently touched his right leg only to pull away as Dick cried out in pain, the sound hoarse and scratchy. Bruce looked over, his expression worried.

"Where does it hurt the most, Master Richard?" Alfred asked, his lips pursed slightly.

"My knee." Dick managed to reply, his throat burning. He didn't miss the look Alfred shot Bruce: fear.

"I'm afraid we're going to have cut your suit off the rest of the way." Alfred told him, and Dick could tell he was struggling to remain impassive.

"Okay." Dick croaked, glad he wouldn't have to try to pull it over his leg.

Alfred pulled out a pair of scissors, especially heavy duty for jobs like this, and began cutting the Nightwing suit along the side of Dick's leg, careful to touch the leg as least as possible. He heard the smallest intake of breath as his right leg was exposed, but didn't dare look down. Alfred moved and did the same to the other leg and soon Dick was sitting on the table in only his boxers and boots, his suit in a crumpled heap on the floor.

When he did finally look down at his leg, he almost wished he hadn't. It was a mess of black bruising, exceedingly swollen around the knee with small cuts oozing blood. Alfred stood like he was afraid to touch it, his hands floating just over the skin. Dick heard Bruce get up and walk over, the older man's face, usually stoic, tight with emotion.

"I'm afraid I will have to call Leslie for this." Alfred finally spoke. "But for now we must get the leg up on the table and elevated if possible."

Dick clenched his teeth harder at the thought of moving his leg again. It hadn't been nearly this bad earlier and he'd even been running and walking on it, but now that all the adrenaline had worn off, the pain was hitting full force. He looked down at his leg again and scowled, knowing Bruce and Alfred were no doubt thinking the same thing he was.

About six months before the incident with the Joker and Jason, Dick had injured his right knee badly in a fight against Bane. He'd had to have surgery to repair it and metal pins inserted to hold the bones in place. He'd been out of commission for months and it had taken over a month of physical therapy to get him back into fighting shape. He knew the incident had scared Bruce badly and even Jason had been off of patrol for at least a week. His leg had healed eventually and he hadn't had problems with it since, but he knew it was still weaker than it had been before and, judging from its current condition, still more susceptible to injuries than it had been before.

"Dick." Bruce's voice called his attention back to the present. "We're going to move your leg onto the table now."

Dick nodded, bracing himself.

He nearly screamed when Bruce and Alfred place their hands under his leg and lifted, swinging it over the top of the table before gently lowering it onto a pillow that Alfred must have just moved there. Once it was over, Dick found himself panting heavily, his eyes squeezed shut and his teeth pressed together so hard he was afraid they would crack. He felt Bruce's hand on his hair and he struggled to control his breathing, his pants slowly becoming softer and softer. Alfred quickly unlaced his boots and dropped them to the floor.

"I'm going to clean the cuts on your leg now," Alfred spoke, moving around to the other side of the table.

Dick waited as Alfred poured more antiseptic on his leg, barely even feeling the sting over the shooting pains coming from his knee. The butler then gently wrapped his knee while Bruce held his leg up, the pain thankfully not as bad this time. Disappearing into the medical supplies room for a moment, Alfred returned with a black knee brace, the same one Dick had worn last time he'd hurt his knee. He laid the brace next to Dick's knee and opened it up, sliding it under his leg before carefully closing it around the joint.

"That should hold it in place until Leslie gets here." Alfred said, going over to the sink and quickly washing his hands. "We'll take a look at your neck and then I'll give you some pain medication and we'll move you into a bed down here."

"Okay." Dick agreed. As much as he would've preferred his own bed, he didn't like the idea of trying to get all the way upstairs with his leg. Even if Bruce carried him, which he wasn't too enthusiastic about, it would still hurt a lot.

Alfred's examination of his throat and neck was quick and soon Dick found himself in a bed in the infirmary, his leg propped up on pillows, as he listened to the two older men talk back in the main part of the cave.

"Leslie said she would be here in a few hours." Alfred told Bruce, his voice strangely muffled by the wall separating him from Dick. "It's a busy night at the clinic. Now stop squirming and let me look at that cut."

"It's fine, Alfred, just a scratch." After a few moments Bruce spoke again. "It looked bad, didn't it?"

"Well, it most certainly did not look very good."

Dick felt himself becoming drowsy, most likely from all the pain medication Alfred had given him.

"Alfred, the Joker had him. He had him hanging from a thirty story building. I almost wasn't quick enough. I almost lost him…."

Dick's eyes got heavier and heavier and he felt himself drifting off.

"But you didn't, Master Bruce. He's a strong boy. He'll be alright."

"But he almost wasn't. That's what scares me…."

oOo

Dick woke up, blinked, and sat bolt upright, his eyes wide as he took in the unfamiliar surroundings.

"It's okay, Dick, you're still in the Batcave."

Dick looked over and saw Bruce standing in the doorway, fully dressed, but looking exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes and Dick's thought quickly went back to the night before. He looked down and saw his leg had been rewrapped in bandages and a new brace was in place, this one looking far more imposing than the previous one. He leaned back onto the pillows. Leslie must've come while he'd been asleep….

"Leslie came while you were asleep." Bruce told him, confirming his theory. "You were under from all the pain medications. We didn't want to wake you."

Dick nodded, reaching up and gently touching his neck. It didn't hurt as bad as it had the night before.

"What did she say?" He asked, his voice little above a whisper.

His jaw tightening, Bruce walked over to the bed and sat down in a chair to the right. Watching him closely, Dick could tell something was wrong….

"She did an x-ray," Bruce began, not looking Dick in the eye. "And she said that, while the bone thankfully wasn't broken again, you did some serious damage to the support system, tearing up some muscle and ligament. You won't be able to put much weight on it for a while and you will have to wear a brace until it's fully healed."

"Guess Nightwing'll be out of commission for a while, huh?" Dick asked, staring down at his damaged leg and internally dreading the coming months of confinement. When Bruce didn't reply Dick looked up, trying to catch the older man's eye. "Did she say how long until I can go back out in the field? Bruce?"

Bruce stood, running a hand down his face before turning and heading towards the door.

"Bruce!" Dick called, straining to bring his voice above a whisper. "Bruce, what is? Am I out for a long time? Bruce!"

Finally Bruce stopped at the door and turned, his face stony. "You're never going back out in the field."

Dick's eyes grew wide as he struggled to sit up, ignoring the pain in his bruised body. "What? It can't be that bad, can it? I didn't even break the bones again!"

"You're fired, Dick."

"What?!" Dick sat upright, looking ready to jump out of bed, damaged leg or not. "You can't fire me! What about Nightwing?"

"Nightwing is done."

"You've got to be kidding! Is it April fool's or something?"

Bruce just turned, opening the door.

"Bruce, you're joking! you can't do this to me! I _am _Nightwing!"

"Not anymore." Bruce spoke without turning, his voice low, even; Batman's voice. "It's too dangerous. You're too young. I should never have brought you into this in the first place."

"I'm eighteen, Bruce! I chose this! I've been doing it since I was nine!"

Bruce remained silent.

"This is about Jason, isn't it?" Dick swung his legs over the side of his bed, gasping as his bad leg twinged in agony. "Ever since he died you've become overprotective and paranoid. Even more than usual. I'm not Jason, Bruce. I didn't die."

"Exactly why I have to keep you alive!" Bruce turned around again, his face hardened in such a terrifying way that Dick almost backed down. Almost.

"I can take care of myself!" Dick pushed himself out of bed, gripping the bed post for support. "I'm not a kid anymore, Bruce!"

"Yes, you are!"

"I'm eighteen!" He raised his voice, taking a step forward. "An adult!"

"You're only an adult if you act like one."

"I do!"

"Then prove it to me."

"I do, everyday!"

"That's not what I saw last night." Bruce took a step forward.

"I made a mistake!"

"You can't afford to make mistakes out in the field."

"I didn't die, Bruce!"

"But you could have!"

"But I didn't! I'm not Jason."

"This isn't about Jason!" Bruce stepped closer, bearing down on him.

"Then what is it about?" Dick glared up at his mentor, struggling to stand as straight as possible. "If it's not about Jason, then what is it? What could possibly be your reason for this?"

Bruce opened his mouth but Dick cut him off before he could say anything. Tension had been building between them for months now and words flew out before he could think.

"You know what, it doesn't matter. I've spent the past nine years training under you, taking orders under you, doing every freaking thing you've asked! And this is what you do? You fire me?"

"Dick, it's not like that-"

"Yeah? Well, that seems just about accurate to me. I've struggled to prove myself to you for nine years and I never knew if I was succeeding or not. Guess I wasn't." Dick's face felt hot, but he ignored it.

"Nightwing is fired and that's that." Bruce's voice shifted to a growl and Dick knew he was dealing with Batman now.

"I don't have to listen to you!"

"As long as you live under my roof, you _will_ listen to me!"

"Then maybe I won't live under your roof anymore." The last part was quiet, little over a whisper. Dick's eyes were narrowed and his glare directed hate at the man standing in front of him. "You say Nightwing's done? Then fine, I'm done."

Bruce's jaw was tight and his fists clenched. They stood glaring at each other for almost a moment before finally Bruce turned, walking out of the room and letting the door fall shut behind him.

Dick limped back over to the bed, wincing as he eased himself back up, his leg sending angry pulses of pain through his body, punishing him for using it so much. Dick was still pulsing with energy and before he knew what he was doing he grabbed his phone from the bedside table (Alfred no doubt having brought it down during the night) and shot a text to Roy. It was over. He was done here.

He and Bruce's relationship hadn't gotten tenser over the past months since Jason's death and he knew they'd been fighting nearly constantly, but he never thought it would come to this. How could Bruce take away Nightwing from him? They were both upset over Jason, but this? He'd been Bruce's partner since he was nine, almost nine years now. They'd grown into such a close relationship, built on trust, that as it slowly ripped apart, Dick felt himself tearing at the seams. Knowing he'd somehow lost Bruce's trust hurt more than he ever expected.

The door opened slowly and Alfred walked in, bearing a tray of breakfast and a small pile of pills. Alfred was sympathetic as he set the tray down on the bedside table.

"Are you alright, Master Richard?" Of course he'd heard the argument, or at least could gather what had happened from looking at Bruce.

"I'll be fine, thanks Alfie."

Alfred nodded, still looking mildly distraught. "Give him time to cool down, he'll come around."

"I don't think he will this time." Dick looked over at the tray of food but felt strangely sick at the thought of eating. "He fired Nightwing, Alfred. It's over."

Alfred looked shocked. "Master Dick, I-"

"It's over. There's nothing you can do."

Trying to compose himself, Alfred nodded to the tray. "Your medication is there. You will want to take it soon."

"Thanks, Alfred."

"And if you want help packing, I will be more than happy to assist." Of course Alfred knew.

Dick smiled, his eyes getting hot with tears. "Thanks."

Alfred nodded before turning and heading towards the door, only to pause at the threshold. "He really does care about you, Master Dick."

And then the old butler was gone and Dick knew it would only be a matter of time until he was gone too.

oOo

Roy's truck pulled into the driveway early the next morning, before any of the other inhabitants of the manor were awake. Dick already had everything he was taking packed into a few bags and Alfred stood next to him, his face poised as always, but a look of sadness in his eyes. He helped Dick to the truck while Roy grabbed his bags and threw them in the back. As he headed back to get Dick's motorcycle, Dick leaned against the side of the car, wincing as he tried to relieve the pressure on his injured leg. Alfred returned to the house for a moment before reappearing with a Tupperware.

"For the road." He whispered, handing Dick the cookies as winked at his second oldest charge. "Be careful, Master Richard. I'll send Leslie over to look at your leg again. Don't push things."

"Don't worry, I won't."

"I'm going to miss you, Master Dick."

"I'll miss you too, Alfred. Tell Tim I said bye."

Alfred nodded.

Sniffling slightly, Dick gave a smile. "I'll stop by, someday. When he's cooled off."

"I'd quite like that. I will continue to send you cookies. And food, as I'm not yet convinced of your culinary skills."

Dick smirked. "That'd be great."

He looked back at the mansion, taking in the all details, remembering the first time he'd ever seen it. It'd seemed so big, back then. Imposing, even scary. He remembered Bruce leading him in through the doors and Alfred telling him he'd show him to his room. He remembered the first time he'd ever eaten dinner with Bruce and how awkward it'd been. He almost laughed at the memory of Bruce's attempts at small talk.

And then his first night as Robin came. And he finally brought Zucco to justice. And he, Kaldur, and Wally started the Team. And they continued to fail at all their covert ops missions. He wouldn't be missing them too much. He was still their leader and wasn't planning on quitting that. Bruce wasn't in charge of the Team anymore so he couldn't try to pull him from that position, but he wouldn't be back to them for a while, with his leg.

"Take care of Timmy, okay?" Dick told the butler, looking away from the mansion. He'd told Tim of his plans the night before, and, while Tim took it well, he knew his little brother would miss him. And he'd miss Tim as well.

"Of course, Master Richard."

"Ready?" Roy asked, sliding into the driver's seat.

Dick nodded, turning and unlatching the door. He was about to climbed in when he suddenly spun back around and wrapped his arms around the old butler, embracing him.

"Take care of yourself, Master Dick."

"You too, Alfie." Dick sniffled.

They stood like that for another moment until Dick finally released the old butler and climbed into the truck, gently shutting the door behind him. Roy started the engine and soon they were off. Dick gave one last look at the mansion before turning his gaze back to the road. It was over.

oOo

Bruce scowled at the image on his computer screen. A new hero had appeared in Blüdhaven, but, sources were saying, he bared a striking resemblance to the old Gotham hero Nightwing. It had been four months since Dick had left and Bruce hadn't spoken to him since the argument. He'd been relieved when Nightwing hadn't shown up for the first couple months and he'd hoped that maybe Dick would never don the suit again. But then, he knew Dick better than anyone and Nightwing was a part of Dick. He wouldn't give it up unless he had no choice.

As Bruce read the news report on Nightwing he found himself smiling. The new hero was all the rage in Blüdhaven, a city that desperately needed a savior. Apparently he started off with a bang, stopping countless petty crimes and even busting a drug ring. Despite himself, Bruce was proud. He'd trained Dick to fight for good, ingrained it into his very being. When the boy's world had fallen apart he'd given him something to fight for.

Turning away from the computer, Bruce stood, stretching. Maybe it was time he called Dick. And… apologized. He knew he'd made a mistake, but he'd been worried, the death of Jason hanging over him like a dark cloud. He couldn't bear to lose another son, but in trying to save him, he'd ended up losing him anyways. Batman's pride still clung to him, though, and he wasn't sure he would be able to face his eldest and admit he'd been right all along. His gaze fell to the piece of paper he'd found taped to his door the other night, the message written in a familiar slanting scrawl:

_Batman needs a Robin. _

The corners of Bruce's mouth raised a fraction as he stared at the message. He turned and started for the elevator, checking his watch and wondering if Tim was home from school yet. Somewhere, Nightwing smiled.

* * *

**A/N: **

Cheesy ending... So, I hope you all liked that! And if you were wondering why Dick was already Nightwing it's because the ages of Tim and Dick in season 2 make it that Dick was still young and living with Bruce (as he was a minor) when Jason was around hence Dick would have had to find a new persona if Jason was Robin earlier than when he actually left the manor and Bruce.

Thank you for reading! Please review and tell me your thoughts! Also, check out some of my other stories and if anyone's interested in making a cover for them, pm me! Thanks a bunch!

Alex out.


End file.
